


Sniffles

by RogueLioness



Series: Trevelyan's Lion Heart [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Amaryllis is sick, and doesn’t like it one bit. Fortunately, Cullen's there to help.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Trevelyan's Lion Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/594661
Kudos: 4





	Sniffles

“I am going,” she declared dramatically as she shuffled into the kitchen, “going to kill myself.”

Cullen let out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s just a cold, Rylli. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s the end of my world,” she muttered, directing a baleful glare to the back of his head. “How do you know how it feels, anyway? You don’t have one.”

“I’m sure it feels awful and painful,” he sympathized, “but it’ll go away in a few days. You just have to be patient and tough it out,”

“But I don’t _wannaaaaa_ ,” she whined. “My nose won’t stop leaking, my throat hurts like-” she burst into a coughing fit that had her doubling over. “I can’t even talk without my throat trying to leave my body,” she whisper-croaked. “Cullen, make it _stooooooopppp!”_

He kissed the top of her head. “Go to bed, sweetheart. I’ll get you some hot tea and honey for that throat.”

She grumbled under her breath, but willingly complied, burrowing herself deep into the pile of blankets that adorned their bed. Closing her eyes, she soon drifted off into an uncomfortable half-sleep.

“Rylli?” She yawned and blinked, fighting the itch in her throat. “Here’s your tea, love.” She reached out for it gratefully, eagerly wanting to sip on the soothing liquid - but just then, the itch grew too much to bear, and she began coughing, spilling the hot tea all over herself. She could only yelp mid-cough, which made things worse, and by the time she stopped her eyes were watering and she looked a pitiful sight.

“Fuck this,” she whimpered, trying to fight back tears. “Cullen, if you love me, please just kill me and end my suffering.”

Cullen sat on the edge of the bed and began rubbing her back, trying to get her tense shoulders to relax. Ignoring her statement entirely, he instead asked, “Would some soup help?”

“Nothing can help me,” she stated theatrically. “I am beyond help. Only death can end my suffering.”

He sighed. “Why don’t you take a nap?” he suggested. “You might feel better when you wake up.”

“I would, if I could just stop coughing,” she muttered.

“Try anyway.” His tone made it more of an order and less of a request.

Griping about pushy men who had no idea what it meant to be sick, she did as he asked. Exhaustion, both mental and physical, had her falling into a deep sleep, which Cullen was grateful for. He hated seeing Amaryllis sick; and while his wife was usually able to bear most illnesses without complaining, she did not handle colds well.

He made his way to the kitchen with the intention of making some soup. Checking the pantry, he managed to dig up the few vegetables they had left, making a mental note to stop by the grocery store after work.

“Right,” he spoke to himself. “What do I do next…”

A quick search on his cellphone, and he had a basic recipe to follow. Humming quietly to himself as he worked, he soon had a broth simmering away on the stove. He’d just finished seasoning it with salt and pepper when the harsh, grating sound of Amaryllis coughing - yet again - told him she was awake.

“Cullen?” she mumbled as she made her way to him, stretching out her arms for a hug like a child would. “I hate being sick,” she sighed tiredly, resting her head against his chest.

“I know,” he sympathized. “I’m sorry.”

She looked over his shoulder. “You made soup?” she perked up, a smile peeking out from the corners of her lips. “Andraste bless you!”

“It isn’t very fancy,” he was suddenly unsure of how it would taste - he was no cook - “and it probably won’t taste as amazing as your cooking, but I figured it’d help with your throat-”

She flung her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to peck swift kisses all over his cheeks. “Maker, you are the best husband in all of Thedas,” she declared, causing him to turn slightly pink. “I swear, Cully-wully, you are far too good for me. Thank you. This looks amazing, and I can’t wait to try it. You’re amazing, and I love you.” She kissed him again, softly, taking care to avoid his lips.

He flung caution to the wind and pulled her closer to him, his hands resting on her hips. “I love you,” he pressed his lips to her forehead before capturing her lips. “You make me a better man.”

They stayed as they were, locked in an intimate embrace, until the sizzle on the stove alerted them. Laughing, Amaryllis turned it off just as the soup began to boil over.

“This is the best soup I’ve ever had,” she moaned in satisfaction minutes later, tucked into bed with a tray table on her lap. “Oh, sweet Maker, it feels so good for my throat.”

“Still want to die?” he asked cheekily. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Two days later, the two of them were huddled beneath the covers, sniffling and groaning, their noses red.

“Rylli?” Cullen groaned.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to kill myself.”

She coughed. “I told you so,” she muttered, half-satisfied, half-amused. “It’s _just a cold_ , Cullen. It’s _not the end of the world.”_

“Oh, shut it,” he grumbled. “Quit hogging the tissues!”

She handed over the box, chuckling, which soon turned into a coughing fit.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “This is the worst.”

Cullen agreed wholeheartedly. 


End file.
